


Royal Blood

by LunarAsylum



Series: Royal Blood Series [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Character(s), Nympho! Castiel, Referenced Prison Time, Therapy, Traumatized Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2357909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarAsylum/pseuds/LunarAsylum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has finally returned home from prison, in order to get back to his life with Sam. Neither of them expected it to be exactly the same, seeing as he had been away for ten years, but neither of them had expected all hell to break loose either. When Dean is instructed via probation to seek therapy for his 'problems', he meets Castiel, who is seemingly out to ruin Dean's life, but he later finds out just how wrong he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [In_Factorem_Verba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Factorem_Verba/gifts).



> Righty-o! So here's the main fic of the Royal Bloods series!! Huzzah for progress! So I will be updating this far more regularly, and my other chapter-fics will be momentarily put on hold while I finish this one (I'm already a good way through!). This one is going to be a little more dark and is actually based off the band Royal Blood. I highly recommend giving the duo a listen because they're fantastic. Their song "Figure It Out" was actually used for the season 10 promo!
> 
> If you want a little more vision behind the front of this fic, I definitely recommend reading other parts of the series, as they give more insight to things that have happened, will happen or are happening as this fic progresses. I hope you all enjoy! <3

Clothes landed on the floor with a soft _thwump_ , orange glaring up at Dean from the white floor. Grabbing the clothing he had originally entered the facility with, he slid them on, noticing a distinct bagginess to them. He hadn't thought that he'd lost that much weight while imprisoned. Sighing lightly, he tugged the belt one notch tighter, his jeans bunching up awkwardly in the front. 

 

He was escorted out the changing room, and to the exit of the prison. Sunlight flared up before him, nearly blinding him as he was uncuffed and nudged forward, causing him to trip up a bit. He noticed Garth off in the distance, waving with an eagerness that irritated him. While knowing that it wouldn't be Sam who'd be picking him up, he still wished it was, and that was enough to disappoint him.

 

Sauntering off towards Garth's vehicle, he greeted the man with a solemn tone, climbing into the truck the man drove. Animated gestures and talking hardly entertained Dean on the hour plus drive back to Sioux Falls. His body was beginning to ache from the slouched position he had taken, and a small smile took his lips as he sat up, the sign for Sioux Falls city limits greeting and passing them by. 

 

His heart began to beat wildly beneath his chest, his eyes darting to all of his different surroundings, absorbing the visions like a sponge. Swallowing thickly, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he saw the street sign for his and Sam's house. A smile took his face, lighting it up like a kid on Christmas. 

 

Their house slowly appeared before them, the truck rolling to a stop in front of it. His chest felt ready to explode, the pain almost unbearable as he fumbled with the seat belt buckle. Finally unclasping it, he threw open the door and bounded out from the vehicle, making his way to the door. He didn't care about anything but having Sam and getting to hold him, feel him, smell him and see him. 

 

The front door was thrown open before he had even made it to the porch, and he was greeted by a Sam that was now quite a few inches taller than him, and his face exploded into a smile. Not long after, he was engulfed in a hug, everything about his brother surrounding him and drowning him in pure ecstasy. 

 

“God, I missed you,” he muttered into Sam's shoulder, his words muffled just enough that the younger couldn't understand him, but the feeling was understood either way. 

 

“I missed you, too,” Sam whispered against the side of his head, and Dean could swear he felt something wet in his hair. His assumptions were confirmed when the taller pulled back, his face streaked with tears of joy. 

 

Quickly turning back, Dean threw up a hand, thanking Garth who was already pulling off to leave the brothers to a night together. Still smiling widely, he allowed Sam to lead him inside, and the house threw him by surprise. His brother had redecorated everything, which he should have expected, but it was still surprising. 

 

His eyes took in the living room, which had a sort of modern feel. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. Floating tan shelving and cubbies adorned the wall, pulled together by a large flat screen TV that was mounted in the center of the opposing wall. Two black leather chairs accentuated the shorter sides of the room, setting at the edge of an elegant black suede rug. Lining the entryway was a long, sleek black leather couch with white and true red accent pillows. 

 

“I see you got yourself a real bachelor pad,” Dean teased Sam, who flushed a little as he looked around the room. 

 

“I got a pretty decent paying job, decided to treat myself to a better looking home,” he said, circling the couch to plop down on it. Looking over the back, his eyes invited Dean to join him, and the older man easily obliged.

 

“Not a bad couch,” he said, nodding slightly as he adjusted into a comfortable position. “I actually kind of like the living room. It's... clean.”

 

“Did you expect it to be dirty?”

 

“I don't mean clean like sanitary clean. I meant clean like organized and uncluttered. It's simplistic,” Dean responded, his eyes still taking in his surroundings.

 

“That's mostly why I picked most of these things. I liked the black color scheme, because it was easy and most things come in black,” he said, causing Dean to chuckle. 

 

“And here I thought it was just your emo phase,” he said, causing Sam to scowl. “Just joking, Sammy.”

 

The next couple of moments were spent in silence as Dean continued to take in his surroundings, while the younger man continued to take in his brother. It had been well over a decade since he had seen the older face-to-face, and he was quite sure this had to be a dream. He'd had dreams like this before, where Dean would be back, and everything would seem perfect until the other taunted him, tell him that he couldn't believe that he thought they were in love and so many other things that it made his chest hurt now just to think about it.

 

“I love you, Dean,” he said out of the blue, his eyes fixated on his brother. The palpitations of his heart were beginning to make him uncomfortable as green eyes greeted him, the emotion there unreadable. He couldn't look anywhere else as those jade eyes drew him in and proceeded to drown him.

 

“I love you, too, Sam,” came the deep, husky voice, drawing him back out from the sea of torture, confirming that this was all real. He couldn't help the pleased expression that took over his face as he leaned forward and kissed Dean for the first time in over ten years. It drove his entire being crazy to be this close to him and not touching him, or without being as close as possible without being attached.

 

Clearly, he had taken his brother off guard as it took a moment for the other to respond to the kiss. Immediately, Sam felt ravished as he was pressed back against the couch, the older man's body hovering mere inches over his. It was tantalizing and damn near cruel as the only thing of theirs touching was their lips.

 

Sam fixed that with ease, wrapping his long and lanky arms around the other's thin waist, and he couldn't help but think that Dean hadn't been this small before. He didn't let it distract him though, as he pulled his brother's body down flat against his own, every fiber of his being reacting to the feeling of another warm, tangible being touching his. 

 

“God, I've missed this; I've missed you,” he whispered as they pulled back for a breath. Their foreheads were touching, still giving them the closeness they both craved.

 

“You don't even know, Sammy,” Dean murmured, unrecognizable tears welling up in his eyes as he shifted their position to nestle his head in the crook of his brother's neck. “Every day I thought about this and about you. I've waited so many days just to get back here, and even then... I can't stay.”

 

Sam knew, though. He had waited for the same thing, counted the days, the hours, even the minutes until Dean would return to him and their home. Things had been painful, the last years of his life. He had often wondered what would happen if he had chosen to move on from Dean and had found someone else. Guilt lingered somewhere in the back of his mind, his eyes averting to the ceiling as he half-kissed the side of his brother's head.

 

“I know, Dean, I know,” he murmured, feeling a wetness on his neck and shoulder, knowing that the other would never blatantly admit to crying, even though they both knew he was. 

 

They just lied there against each other for several moments, enjoying the intimacy between themselves. It was little things like this, just being able to have someone close to you like this, to smell the different flavors of them, feeling all the different parts of their body matching up to yours in ways like a complex puzzle. 

 

At that moment, Dean was content to just lie there and relearn Sam's body, to take in all of him at once, but then he figured, you can't do that with clothing on. 

 

“Mm, Sammy?”

 

“Yeah, Dean?”

 

“Let's go fuck,” he said, bracing his hands against the couch and pushing himself up. The expression on Sam's face made him chortle as he got off the couch, tugging Sam up by his shirt. “C'mon~.”

 

Sam didn't know how, but he was already shirtless by the time that he was standing off the couch. His pants were gone shortly after that, as Dean tugged him towards the bedroom, their lips connected most of the way there.

 

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

The next morning, when Dean woke, he almost felt like it was all a lie. There was no way he was home, and that he had been with Sam the previous night. When he turned his head though, there was Sam, nestled up against him, providing him warmth and coverage to his otherwise nude body. 

 

Letting go of a sigh, he smiled contentedly, cuddling closer to his brother as he attempted to fall back asleep. He didn't want to let this moment go, of having the other close. All he wanted was his old life back, where it had just been him and Sam, and he had taken care of them and they had been genuinely happy. 

 

Now, they had such a glaring problem between them that it would be impossible to overlook, despite how much Dean wanted to. He didn't want to discuss his time in prison, he didn't want to discuss the things that had been said to him, had happened to him. There were so many things from the last ten years that he didn't want to think about, he could fill out an entire notebook and still not be done. 

 

Looking over at the clock on the nightstand, he noticed it was the time he was normally woken up in his cell block, and it caused him a slight agitation. He wondered how long it would take him to break the habits that had practically been beaten into him during his incarceration. Licking his lips, he stared up at the ceiling, just letting the time tick by slowly, unable to bring himself to wake Sam or to move.

 

He couldn't count how long he'd laid there without looking over at the clock, but his brother moving out of his grasp was enough to give him cause to stir. Viridian eyes glowed with happiness as he watch his brother wake, eyes tracing every inch of naked body that they could. Muscles flexed beneath his skin as he stretched, grumblings erupting from his mouth.

 

Dean bit the inside of his lip to prevent himself from saying something that would undoubtedly prolong their morning, and potentially get him into trouble. Though there was just something about the subtle curves to his brother's body that seemed to make him a completely different person from who Dean had known before.

 

It was more attractive, the definition of his muscles arching and ridging his skin in ways that he hadn't even seen while in prison, and the men there had definitely been in shape. Inhaling deeply, he rolled onto his back, locking his eyes back on the ceiling in order to prevent himself from getting aroused. 

 

He heard Sam groan, and the bed shifted weight slightly as his younger brother sat up, stretching his arms. Draping the blanket over his waist, he followed suit, sitting up and looking over and down the other's back. Unable to contain himself, he leaned over, placing a kiss right between his shoulder blades, his hand running over his back.

 

“Morning,” he murmured against warm flesh, unwilling to stop touching the taller man. He craved, no, he _needed_ this connection to another human being. Dean need to know that he wasn't alone or in danger any more, that he was finally safe and able to relax.

 

“Mornin',” Sam said blearily, craning his head to extend his vision over his shoulder. “Did you sleep okay?”

 

“Better than I have in a long time, Sammy,” he said, pulling back as the younger twisted his body to face him. There was a distinguishable sadness in his posture every time his prison stay was implied or referenced. It made Dean just want to hug him and tell him that it was okay, and that it was over now, but he had a certain feeling that it wasn't that easy. 

 

Things like this just didn't disappear, or go away over time. They lingered with you for the rest of your life, following your steps like a shadow, waiting to take the killing step that ended it all. Even then, it would hover over your grave for some time, letting all those who knew you remember you for what you did, and not who you were. 

 

Sighing, he forced a smile onto his lips as he leaned forward to kiss Sam's. He just wanted to erase that sadness that persisted behind his brother's eyes, but he knew he couldn't. That was something for the younger man to do, and Dean knew it. 

 

“Don't worry about it, okay?” he said quietly as he pulled back. “Let's just get something going to breakfast before I head out. I gotta be back at Garth's by 8AM when my probation officer is supposed to call to make sure I'm there. They made him get a house phone, just for this.”

 

“That's a lot of effort just to make sure you don't sneak over here,” Sam said, chuckling a little as they both got off the bed in all their nude grandeur. 

 

“Yeah, well, I'm surprised they didn't want to do a call last night,” he said, chuckling slightly. “I think they thought maybe the freedom from prison would somehow exhaust me.”

 

“Well, whatever it is, I'm just glad they decided not to. It meant we got time together,” the younger spoke, smiling over at his brother from his dresser. He pulled open the drawer in order to get some underwear but Dean stopped him. 

 

“Fuck clothes,” he said, grinning widely. “I don't need 'em.”

 

It was his very subtle way of saying he just wanted to see Sam like this. Hazel eyes seemed to penetrate into his soul, but he didn't mind at all as the other just nodded, pushing the drawer closed gently. The fact that Dean had to lean up to kiss bother him a bit, but mostly in jest. 

 

“Man, I hate the fact that you got tall,” he grumbled. “You were barely the same height as me when you were 17.”

 

Sam laughed at that, following Dean out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen, not quite used to walking around this... freely. 

 

“I hit a growth spurt around the time I turned 19. I dunno what happened, but the next thing I know, I'm 6'4 and towering over everyone like a giant,” he said, chuckling. “It's nice though. Most people don't fuck with me since I'm so tall.”

 

Dean could only imagine the kind of hate and ridicule his brother received when he went to prison, and it laid a new blanket of guilt over him as he looked over the taller brunette. He had to force himself to push it aside so as not to ruin their morning. Adding a slightly bounce to his step, he spun on his heel, walking backwards so as to face his brother.

 

“So what should we have, and please tell me you have more than cereal. I really don't want to make cereal naked; that's so lack luster,” he said, grinning widely at the other.

 

Sam chortled, shaking his head slightly at the ridiculousness of his brother. Dean hadn't seemed to have changed one bit, despite them both knowing he had. It only made his heart ache more for the fact that the older man even had to put on a show to begin with. 

 

“I got quite a bit actually,” he said, smiling at his brother, as he toured him through their options for breakfast. It didn't take Dean long to decide what he wanted either, and they proceeded to make breakfast without a hitch, or a mishap of accidentally fucking while the food was cooking.

 

Plopping down on the couch, Dean would have to keep in mind that they would probably never fuck on it. Leather and bare skin were not a good combination when trying to move with ease, it seemed.

 

“Since when did you know how to cook?” he asked, looking over at his brother who took a seat beside him shortly after. 

 

“Well, I had to learn how to not starve on my own, so I just kind of... googled it.”

 

“You googled how to cook...”

 

“Yeah. They have videos and stuff.”

 

“Sam, cooking is a talent. You don't just... watch a video and it magically happens,” Dean said, laughing slightly as his brother looked abashed. Still chuckling, he admired the hefty plate of food in his hand. It was a lot larger of a portion that he was used to, and he knew it might take him a while to adjust to having a much more unlimited amount of food than he'd had while in prison. 

 

“So when will you be able to come back over?” Sam asked after a few moments of silence and eating. 

 

“I'm not exactly sure. I know they're going to keep up sporadic phone calls to make sure that I'm with Garth, so I'm kind of on house arrest for the next couple of days until I physically meet with my probation officer. Then I know that they're planning on reintroducing us while the officer is there, just to make sure nothing... 'weird' goes on,” he said quietly, staring down at his plate.

 

“So I guess we just have to wait and see. I don't want to make promises only to disappoint you if I can't keep them.”

 

Sam nodded at that, finding it reasonable. He didn't want to make his brother get in trouble, just because he wanted to see him.

 

“Do you know how long you have to remain in Sioux Falls?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, normally on probation, you're not allowed to leave the city or state, just to make sure you don't commit your crime again,” Sam explained, watching Dean as he nibbled on his food. 

 

“Oh, I don't know. I wasn't aware of that. Why?”

 

“I was thinking we could move once your probation period is up.”

 

“What? To where?”

 

“Ohio.”

 

Dean looked over at him, confused as to why he would even suggest moving. Everything they knew and were comfortable with was here in South Dakota. 

 

“Why Ohio?”

 

“They don't prosecute incest there,” he said quietly. “I looked it up after you went to jail. Ohio and New Jersey don't prosecute it or anything unless you're a parent or under age. Now, though, we're both of age, and we're brothers. They wouldn't do anything to us.”

 

The older man inhaled deeply at that explanation, letting his breath out slowly as he considered what Sam was telling him. It made a whole lot of sense, but it was a hell of a commitment to move states again. 

 

“You've thought a lot about this haven't you?”

 

“Dean, I don't want to go through this again, and I kind of have a feeling, neither do you.”

 

“Sammy, it's been ten years.”

 

“So? What's your point?” he asked indignantly, frown creasing his forehead.

 

“My point is that you're 27, almost 28 now. I'm 32, and a whole lot has changed in both us. I'm not trying to invalidate what we have and what we had, but I'd like to make sure that we still want the same things that we did a decade ago. I don't want to jump ship, only to find out we can't swim or make it to land.”

 

Sam sighed heavily at that, but he couldn't argue Dean at all. The older man had a very valid point, and he didn't want to make things even more strained than they were. Nodding, he returned to food, both of them emptying their plates in silence. 

 

When both plates were empty, he opted to take the plates to the kitchen to wash them, suggesting to Dean that he should get dressed.

 

“Is Garth picking you up or are you taking a cab?” he called out from the kitchen as Dean headed towards the bedroom.

 

“A cab. Garth doesn't want to bring on suspicion if he were to leave the house so early in the morning. He has a feeling they're watching him, too, since he's technically my legal caretaker.”

 

It took everything in Sam not to laugh at the idea of Garth being anyone's caretaker. The man was too sporadic and all over the place to even take care of himself. He was surprised the judge had even accepted the deal of releasing Dean ahead of schedule by a few months in order to be monitored by probation. 

 

“I'll call the cab, okay?” he said loudly, hearing a noise of consent from Dean and he hurried with the dishes. Heading back into the bedroom, he was slightly disappointed to see a clothed Dean, despite him having told the other to get dressed. 

 

Flipping the screen on with the press of a button, his finger moved smoothly over the touchscreen surface, pulling up a number for a cab company on the web browser. Within a couple of a minutes, a cab was ordered for Dean under a different name, just in case, and he was getting dressed. 

 

As he pulled his shirt over his head, he felt Dean press up against him, kissing his neck.

 

“I love you,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around Sam's waist, holding him close. “I'll miss you.”

 

“I love you, too, Dean,” he whispered, feeling a familiar ache in his chest at the idea of Dean leaving again. He knew it was mostly temporary, but it was still devastating to know that he only had one night and one morning with him. 

 

“I'll miss you, too.”

 

They remained in their embrace, until Sam's phone began to ring, signaling that the cab was there. The taller man turned in Dean's arm, giving him a passionate kiss, before the other pulled away. 

 

“I'll talk to you later, Sammy,” he said sadly as he headed out of the bedroom, his shoulders slouched forward as sadness took hold again. He hated having to leave like this, but it was better to do it now for a week or so, than to do it for ten years again.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets the amazing sex therapist, Jo Harvelle.

 

Dean's morning had been spent primarily on the phone, talking with various parts of the law about his obligations with his probation, so on and so forth, as well as speaking with Sammy. It had been well over two weeks since he had seen his brother, and it was killing him. After his first meeting with his probation officer, she had recommended to show integrity and good will with the courts, it was best to let it sit for a while until he had seen his therapist.

 

Yeah, therapist, for his supposedly deviant sexual problems. His first appointment was today, later in the evening, and he wasn't looking forward to it at all. He didn't feel that he had any problem at all, yet the state of South Dakota not only insisted he had a problem, but then forced the problem on him.

 

It meant a lot of acting on his part, especially with the pretending that he found his actions wrong and he hadn't known what he was thinking when he was 21 years old. Now, he would have to do the same thing, much more convincingly to a therapist. The whole thing irritated him to the ends of the Earth. 

 

Having been out of prison for a couple of weeks meant he had gotten his car back, and he had taken the time to go to the DPS to get everything straightened out with his license so that he could drive himself where he needed to go instead of relying on Garth. The only thing was that he had to agree to GPS tracking if he was to have his own vehicle so that his probation officer could monitor his actions to make sure he wasn't sneaking off to Sam's.

 

He'd promised not to do all the illegal things they expected of him in his usual sarcastic way before departing his probation officer's cubicle, and now he was a mostly free man. He had actually been really pleased with the officer assigned to monitor him. She was a very witty woman, with a great sense of humor, and she didn't treat Dean like he was some rabid criminal.

 

It had genuinely surprised him on their first meeting when she had simply just gone over what her job was, and what she expected out of him, never treating him like a child, or saying she'd give him a slap on the wrist if he did something out of place. She'd simply laid down the law, explaining what he could and could not do and what would happen if he broke his rules. It was incredibly refreshing. 

 

When she had informed him that he would be seeing a therapist as recommended by the state for his charges, he had scoffed, exclaiming he had no problem. She had, for all intents and purposes, been rather sympathetic about it all. While she didn't outright say he hadn't really committed a crime, she didn't agree with the state's call all that much either.

 

“From what I hear,” she had said, “Is that they're primarily enforcing this not because of what you did, but because of what happened while you were in prison.”

 

That had taken Dean for a spin, as he hadn't expected that to make it outside the prison doors. He could hardly recall the conversation after that, since it wasn't necessarily a subject he preferred to discuss, especially with a woman, but she had taken his side, simply saying that it was probably best he at least get it completely out of his system with someone who was qualified to do that. 

 

He managed to keep himself occupied until it was time for him to leave, sluggishly and woefully heading out to his car. Pressing the power button for his CD player, he backed out of the driveway, and turned to the left to drive off to his destination. It took him a little over half an hour to get there with the traffic of Sioux Falls, and after five minutes of searching for a parking space, he managed to steal one from another person. A horn blared at him, but he didn't care as he flipped his car off with a twist of the key, silence falling on him as the engine stopped. 

 

He took a moment to let himself breathe, calming and steeling against the nerves that were creeping up on him. Running a hand over his mouth, he exhaled slowly, his eyes fluttering closed as he slowly pushed every worry to the back of his mind. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, he swung the door open, cautious of the car beside him as he climbed out of the seat. He nudged the door shut with his foot, making sure it was secure, before locking the car with the fob, and heading towards the entrance of the building.

 

His steps were slow and calculated, each one easing the anxiety back to the forefront of his mind. He had no idea what to expect from this, as he had never seen a therapist or a counselor in his life. There was no inclination as to how this person would treat him, since he still had no idea if it was a woman or a man. Craning his head as he entered the building, he saw a sign that listed a directory of the people and businesses located within. He found the name of the clinic that he was visiting, and headed towards the elevators, navigating his way to the sixth floor. 

 

Once there, he meandered down the hall, not all that thrilled nor rushed to make it to his appointment. Dean stood in front of the door for a moment, staring uneasily at the number on the door as his hand reached for the knob. Turning the metal, he felt it glide quicker than he was moving it and the door was suddenly jerked open and free of his grip.

 

A black haired man nearly ran into him, stopping mere inches away from him before taking a step back, ice-blue eyes filled with shock and another emotion that Dean couldn't quite pinpoint. 

 

“Sorry, sorry!” the other man said, turning his body sideways to let Dean enter the room. “Didn't expect someone else to be there. You must be new.”

 

The brunette could've sworn that his ears flatten on his head as his face pulled taught with irritation and embarrassment. 

 

“My name's Castiel. I feel assured we'll be seeing each other around,” the raven-haired man said, backing out of the door and giving Dean a wink before the door shut. 

 

That had been incredibly uncomfortable, and the Winchester released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Turning back to face the rest of the room, he glanced around quickly, before making his way to the sign in counter. Introducing himself hesitantly, the kind woman behind the glass beamed at him as per her job requirements and slid him a clip board with a form. Releasing a long breath, he grasped the edges of the board, which had been sliced by finger nails and rubbed smooth by fingers, rounded edges greeting the palm of his hands.

 

He sauntered over to the stereotypical clinic waiting room chair, plopping down to find that it was indeed as uncomfortable as it looked. Folding his right leg over his left, he propped the form up on his leg, filling out all the information that was asked of him. It was tedious, and he would have thought that maybe the state would've sent his information beforehand, but apparently, they like to get their information twice.

 

It took him several minutes, and a few flips through his wallet in order to finish filling out the information and he meandered back over to the counter, sliding the clipboard through the small cut-out in the glass. The overly kind woman thanked him, and informed him to have a seat and wait patiently for his name to be called. Seeing as he was the only one in the waiting room, he couldn't imagine it would take long.

 

Twenty minutes later however, he was still sitting there, cheek resting in his hand as he stared in boredom at his surroundings. A voice finally woke him from his half-sleep, a gentle female voice crooning to him to follow. Sleepily, he rose from the chair and followed after the considerably smaller woman, his eyes scanning over her body for any sign that she might be condescending towards him. 

 

“My name is Jo Harvelle,” she spoke, her voice was deep, but not too deep for a woman, a little bit of a whisper to it, as if she was constantly trying to be sexy. “I would prefer you call me Dr. Harvelle, but if that makes you uncomfortable, you can call me Jo.”

 

So Jo was a woman. Great, he was probably going to either be seen as piece of gay eye candy because she was so young, or he was going to be seen as a disgusting pervert. Neither was a great choice.

 

“Dean,” he managed to croak out as they rounded a corner. Her office was a little ways from the waiting room, and he hadn't anticipated for this office to be so big. 

 

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said with a chuckle. “And I'm sorry for what happened to you.”

 

He was a little taken aback by that as she pushed open a door, inviting him into a abnormally decorated office. Normally, he expect offices to be shades of blue and white, with pictures of oceans and other calming things, but she was a little more unique.

 

“So you hunt,” he said, as he looked at framed pictures of her, and what seemed to be her mother with various game they had shot. 

 

“I do. My Dad taught me, my Mom helped me get better,” she said, taking a seat in a chair that was in front of her desk. “Please, sit.” 

 

She motioned to a rather soft looking chair, which Dean gratefully took, finding that it was as soft as it looked, if not more so. His eyes were still scanning the room as he spoke.

 

“Dad no longer with us?”

 

“I'm afraid not,” she said as she grabbed a manilla folder from her desk, flipping through it. “But we're not here to discuss me and my problems, Dean. We're here to help you cope with what happened while you were in prison.”

 

“Well I'd say I'm coping just fine, Jo,” he responded, his face lying to his words. He still had nightmares, still woke up sometimes, half expecting someone to be leering over him waiting for him to be awake to 'enjoy' their time. 

 

“I might have to disagree with you, Dean. There are reports from your time in prison where the guards documented your actions and the way you interacted with other inmates. For a time, you were very reserved, and then came along another man, a man who was charged and convicted with rape and battery and you befriended him, engaged in intercourse with him willingly, so it seems,” she stated, causing Dean to look away at that. 

 

He hated admitting the fact that he had fucked around happily in prison. Lucifer had been something else, and had made his time that much more enjoyable. It had made the time fly by and when he had left the other man behind, he had felt a bit of sorrow at it, having grown close emotionally and intimately with the man.

 

“I'm not gunna deny it, cause it's true, but what's that got to do with anything,” he asked, folding his arms over his chest. How did his actions years after the fact have anything to do with what happened to him.

 

“Because in some cases, rape victims become hyper-sexualized, meaning that they will have even more sex in order to try and regain their control over their sexual lives. I believe this is what happened in your case, and may continue to happen, now that you are out and will have the ability to see your brother again.”

 

“So you think I'm gunna go back to Sammy and fuck him all the time?”

 

“No, Dean, that's far from what I'm saying. I'm simply saying that you may end up relying more on sex in order to reestablish a relationship with your brother. I'm not saying that all you will do is have sex, but I feel that when you first see him again, you will instantly gravitate towards having sex, because it's what you feel will let you know things can be normal again,” she said, and Dean looked down at his lap. 

 

She was apparently really good at her job, because that seemed to be exactly what had happened. He had definitely gravitated towards being sexual with Sam because he had missed it, but also because he felt he needed to reestablish that, to make sure that Sam knew who was boss.

 

“I see,” she said at his silence, before flipping through a few of the pages. “As far as I know you haven't been 'reintroduced' yet.”

 

“We haven't, no,” he said, pursing his lips, as she chuckled lightly. It put him on edge that she might tell the authorities that he had already seen Sam.

 

“Don't worry. Patient confidentiality. I'm not allowed to tell a soul what you say in here unless you threaten to harm yourself or others,” she said, giving him a grin. “Would you like to talk about that, though?”

 

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. He didn't feel comfortable discussing his relationship with his brother to anyone, not even the people who knew. The expression she gave him was one that said more than he wanted to hear. He could see the skepticism on her face, as well as the disappointment and the understanding. Despite the fact that he despised what she did, he felt he might be able to like her. 

 

She seemed nice and intuitive enough to not force things, which was always the primary cause of Dean's discomfort. There was also the plus that she was incredibly attractive, and anything or anyone that was easy on the eyes made life a little bit easier. Her voice was another thing, as it just kind of calmed him, and put him at ease around here. She had definitely chosen the correct profession.

 

“Alright, Dean, well what do you want to talk about?” she asked, crossing her legs, and folding her arms atop them. 

 

“Anything but what you want to talk about.”

 

“How do you know what I want to talk about?”

 

“Because the state is paying you to talk about my ass being violated in prison and about my supposed rape of my little brother,” he said sardonically, his arms tightening across his chest.

 

“Yes, that may be what they are paying me for, but I'm not here for them. I'm here for you,” she said, her eyes speaking the same language as her words. “There's a reason I do what I do, and surprisingly, it's not for the money. I like to help people, Dean, it's what I'm good at. You're here, which means let's not waste your time, hm? We can talk about anything. You can talk about what you ate for dinner last night and the fact that it made you gassy. I don't care, as long as we don't waste anyone's time. Sound like a plan?”

 

Yeah, he was definitely going to like her. 

 

An hour later, and he left the room feeling as though he had made a new friend. She had discussed all sorts of things with him from hunting to types of guns and even cars. She had him when she could spec out cars even he had trouble with. He might even go so far as to say he loved her already.

 

“Alright, Dean, please make sure you make an appointment for this time next week, same day. If you want, I feel assured that Tessa will be more than happy to schedule it out for the next couple of months if you'd like,” she said, as she gave him a firm handshake. 

 

“Yeah,” he said simply, nodding and giving her a smile. “I'll see you next week.”

 

He was off, heading back towards the waiting room as Jo reentered her office to fill out some paperwork he assumed she had for him. He had opted to just schedule it out for the next couple of months so that if anything happened, he at least had one steady thing in his life. 

 

Now, he had a sort of schedule to follow. On Mondays he met with his probation officer every two weeks, and every Thursday, he would now be meeting with Jo Harvelle, the badass sex therapist who probably had better aim with a shot gun than him. It was almost depressing. 

 

Leaving the building, he felt a lot better about things. She hadn't seemed to prosecute him or judge him for the relationship he openly had with his brother now, and in fact, she hadn't even seemed to see a problem with it. All she wanted to discuss was how he was feeling in regards to sex now, and he didn't want to admit that she was right.

 

He was having problems, but it wasn't for a lack of intimacy, but a need of it. There was this tiny little thought in the back of his head, nagging him that he had been able to be so easily taken advantage of. Sure, it was prison, and a lot of the guys there were there for harder and more violent crimes than he was, but he was no small man at all.

 

Standing at a 6'1 with a fairly muscular build, he shouldn't have been raped, yet he had, multiple times, by different men in different groups every time. Even after his first week, it had happened throughout the ten years he had spent there. Though, once Lucifer had arrived, things had definitely taken a better turn until he had been kicked half-unconscious by some 'faggot hating bible thumper'. 

 

It was a bit ironic to think that someone who could hold the bible in such high regard could be put into prison for rape and murder, of a man, no less. He'd had Leviticus verses chanted and thrown at him more often than fists had been while he was there. It had only gotten worse once he had befriended and found himself under the wing of Lucifer. They often had thrown bits of food at either of them and the other man would want to retaliate, but Dean had often talked him down and out of it. 

 

The amount they had relied on each other was starting to really get to Dean, now that he was out. He really had no one to lean on and talk to about how shitty his day was, or what the past years had been like, and what Hell lacked in comparison to prison. Sighing heavily, he started up his car, heading back to Garth's so that he could call Sam and tell him how his appointment had gone. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my plans are for this story to be updated every Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. Here's hoping I keep that schedule!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam finally see each other after Dean first got out.

Dean wasn't sure how he felt about being 'reintroduced' to his brother at the police department. His probation officer had told him it only furthered his attempts at good will with the state and courts to meet in this way, and he only nodded and agreed. He didn't want more trouble than was necessary, and just wanted to have his freedom to see his brother whenever. 

 

He was sitting in an interrogation room, stark metal table glaring light back up at him, causing him to turn his head and look at the wall. His entire day had been dull, but clearly Jo had reported a good thing back to the state for them to agree to letting him meet with Sam. From the sounds of it, they had been very hesitant to let him see his brother at all, due to the fact that they had had a very intimate and long relationship before Dean had been arrested and convicted.

 

Even more than that, Sam had been very invested and when Dean had first been put on trial, his brother had refused to testify against him, or even for him. The older's lawyer had advised the younger Winchester that testifying could go very wrong in their case, as Sam was right on the cusp of adulthood, and his words could easily be manipulated by the attorney for the state. The younger had also been advised not to appear at the trial at all.

 

As far as the state knew, it had been almost 10 and a half years since they had seen each other, and they were expecting some very 'disgusting' sparks to fly between them. Dean had made a note to avoid any truly sexual contact with Sam when he was brought into the room, and he had told him that over the phone. The more brother-like they acted, the better it seemed. 

 

He looked over at the door, when he heard the knob twist, and moments later, the door swung open, revealing a police officer and his brother, who looked the same as he had three weeks ago. His eyes quickly raked over his brother, beaming widely as he practically jumped from his seat, meeting the other half-way and hugging tightly. 

 

Their words were muffled, but understood as they spoke quietly to each other. Both of them made effort and succeeded at not mentioned or hinting at their rendezvous a few weeks ago. Several long moments passed as they embraced each other, just taking in the feel of the other and enjoying and savoring the closeness they had. 

 

The officer cleared his throat, causing them to separate, Sam looking abashed, while Dean looked annoyed. They took seats at opposing sides of the table in the room, just looking at each other in silence for several moments. The shorter brunette was the first to speak, breaking the very thick and awkward silence.

 

“How've you been?” he asked, his gaze implying in general, instead of the just the last couple of weeks. He couldn't help but think of just how great it was to finally see Sam again. 

 

“Good, very good. Keeping busy,” Sam responded,, leaning forward a little, his hands folded and resting on the table. He had even done that when he was younger, and it made Dean smile a bit to know that some habits of his hadn't changed, despite how much he had elsewhere. “What about you? Aside from... prison.”

 

It took all of Dean's self control to not make a face at the mention of prison, and he was pretty sure he had still failed. He glanced away from Sam for a moment to regain composure of himself before looking back. 

 

“I've been okay, just getting everything as close to normal as I can. Got my car back,” he said, smiling slightly. They didn't really talk about much over the phone when they did talk. They kept it brief, and solely for the purpose of hearing each other's voice more than actually informative phone calls. 

 

“Dad's Impala?” Sam asked, his eyes brightening a bit at the mention of that. 

 

“Yeah. Bobby had kept it up and running, which was surprisingly kind of him,” Dean said, smilingly slightly. Bobby hadn't necessarily taken kindly when he had found out what they had been up to all those years ago, but now he was just crotchety in general and hadn't really minded when the older Winchester had contacted him in hopes that his car was still functional. In fact, she had even looked better than the day he had been arrested. 

 

“Wow, never would've expected that,” Sam said, his face creasing in a surprised but pleased expression. 

 

“Yeah, me either,” Dean said, looking over at the two way mirror. He knew there were people behind it, staring at them and analyzing their movements with each other. They had to do their best to not seem sexually interested in each other in order to get visitation outside the precinct, and eventually, unmonitored visits. It made his eye muscles twitch at the thought of having his family time monitored, but then again, it was probably rightfully so. 

 

“Do you have a job, yet, by any chance or miracle?” Sam asked, looking over at the mirror as well, before turning back to Dean. The older shook his head at that.

 

“I haven't really looked yet. I'm still trying to get settled back into everything and make sure I'm even ready to really take on a job that's willing to take me,” he said quietly, and they gave each other a knowing look. While it wasn't necessarily the worst felony out there, it was enough to prevent him from getting quite a lot of jobs.

 

“Any idea what you'd look for when you do start looking?”

 

“Probably mechanic. That's what I'm used to, and I studied for it while I was locked up, too. As far as I know, those jobs might be a little more lenient on their felon-allowance policies,” he replied, chuckling slightly, but the sadness that outlined Sam's face was enough to stop him. 

 

“Are you doing okay, Sammy?” 

 

“I've just missed you,” he said, sadness now lacing into his words, and taking them toward dangerous waters. It made Dean's chest ache, and he really just wanted to hug and kiss his brother, and then take him away and make him forget everything, but he couldn't. That only made it worse.

 

“I've missed you, too, Sammy,” he said earnestly. He had more than missed Sam, he had _craved_ him. He would lie in bed for hours on end, his arm outstretched into the emptiness beside him, longing for a weight there. His body missed having closeness with something that was warmth without his body heat. He particularly missed the smell that came along with Sam, the shampoo that often wafted into his nose from his brother's irritatingly long hair. He had to dig his finger nails into his palms in order to stop himself there.

 

They both could tell that they longed for each other, but Dean could only hope it didn't show on camera. 

 

“So have you found anyone?” he asked, trying to move the conversation away from the ocean of troubles, trying to make it truly seem like he knew nothing about Sam's life of the past decade.

 

“No, no one,” he responded, his voice sounding a little automatic. It set Dean's nerves on edge a little, as it was the same tone Sam would use when he would lie as a kid. He knew it far too well, and it caused him to narrow his eyes, but he didn't push it. 

 

“They told me about what happened, though.”

 

“What?” Dean asked, brows furrowing as he leaned forward, leaning his elbows against the edge of the table.

 

“What happened to you in prison. You probation officer thought I should know,” he said quietly, and Dean flushed immediately with embarrassment and anger at that. His jaw set in fury, and he leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly in order to calm himself. 

 

She had no right to disclose that information to anyone, even if it was Sam. That was something that Dean should've told him, something they should've discussed in private, but now it was laid out in front of them with several officers and Jo watching. 

 

“She had no right to tell you that,” Dean said through gritted teeth, trying to direct his anger elsewhere. It wasn't his brother's fault that he knew now, so he didn't deserve frustration thrust at him. He could see the other's shoulders shrink inwards, and it caused him to feel guilt which almost appeased his anger. 

 

“I didn't ask her to,” Sam said quietly, his eyes averted to staring at Dean's reflection in the table.

 

“I know, I'm sorry. I have no right to be angry at you,” he said, his eyes locked on his brother's form. He had a slight feeling that that was a test of sorts for him probably set up by Jo, and it irritated him. He made a conscious decision to glare at the two-way mirror, hoping that Jo was on the other side, watching him. 

 

“Sorry for bringing it up,” the taller brunette said, looking back up at his older brother. Dean could feel the guilt and apology pouring out from every inch of the younger, and he gave him a small, tense smile. 

 

“You don't need to apologize, Sammy,” he said, the kind tone forced into his voice. There was a tenseness between them now and neither of them were sure how to dissipate it. They sat in silence for a few moments, both thinking about what they could possibly say, when they were both cut off mid-thought by the officer.

 

“Time's up,” he said, moving towards Sam. “Let's go.”

 

He grabbed the younger by his upper arm, lifting the reluctant man out of his chair, as he stammered and looked back at Dean. The older Winchester couldn't say anything as he watched his brother half-walk and be half-dragged by the officer. Releasing a long breath, he ran his hands over his face to try and keep himself calm. 

 

Dean was fetched moments later, his probation officer, Jody, escorting him out of the room.

 

“That was good, Dean. A lot better than I think anyone could've expected,” she said, offering him a smile which he didn't return.

 

“Yeah, because all we did was talk for maybe five minutes,” he muttered, and he heard her chuckled. “What the hell's so funny?”

 

“You were in there for half an hour, Dean,” she said, grinning slightly. “You mostly just sat in silence, which is a lot better than what the other officers thought you would do. I heard one say he expected a full on 'faggot show'. I would've loved to have punched him.”

 

“You punch another officer?”

 

“What? I can't punch one because I am one?” she asked indignantly, causing him to smile. This was why he liked her. She was full of opinion and personality, yet she was still very mindful of her laws, and strict. He didn't mind it so much, because she wasn't a bitch about it. She kind of made him think of what it would be like to have a mom. 

 

“I suppose you _could_ if you wanted to risk it,” he said after a few minutes as they exited the building. She laughed at that, grinning over at him.

 

“You go home, get some rest. I'll speak with the state's attorney about this and see what we can arrange in regards to maybe you getting to visit Sam at his home,” she said, giving him a gentle smile. “I have a feeling it'll be supervised for the first couple of months if I can negotiate, but it's better than nothing.”

 

He nodded and had to agree, before parting ways with Jody and heading to his car. Once inside, he groaned and slammed his head against the steering wheel, avoiding the horn at all costs. The one time they had finally had to see each other in the past three weeks, and they hardly talked. Even then, it wasn't really decent talk, as Dean had gotten irritated at the end, probably discouraging Sam from ever mentioning it again.

 

Not that he minded that, because he'd rather not talk about it, but if they were to ever get back to normal, that would be something they would have to talk about. Dean rued the time when that day came and he had to sit down and tell Sam everything that had happened while he was in prison. Images of Lucifer flashed across the back of his eye lids, mixing and swirling emotions in the middle of his chest, causing his breath to catch.

 

Taking several moments to calm down, he leaned back against his seat and started the car. Once calm enough, he pulled out and drove back to Garth's place. He was really hoping that at some point, he could move out of Garth's and back with Sam. Not that he hated Garth, but he didn't like waking up to hear Garth prancing around the house in his morning routine. It was disturbing. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never realized quite how crazy this was going to be in trying to upkeep a thrice-weekly update and my job. -screams- I need a vacation. XDD


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel bombards Dean with questions that make him more than uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH. SORRY FOR THE LATENESS. I had a very rough day yesterday and ended up being too tired to finish off the chapter! Here you are! Enjoy folks!

It had been a long day. He had been job hunting, on the phone and to a therapist meeting all within the span of five hours. He wasn't sure his brain could handle any more emotional dredging or heavy thinking. So after he had arrived home, he had collapsed into a chair to try and plan a light and relaxing evening. That was when the idea of actually going out and socializing with humanity had popped into his head.

 

Glancing over at the clock, he noticed that happy hour started in a few hours, and maybe, just maybe, he could go out and just enjoy a good night out with some drinks and good food. His forehead creased as he realized that he'd probably have to go with Garth, who was a lightweight when it came to drinking, and when he was actually drunk, he was even more unbearable.

 

Heaving a sigh, he nearly gave up on the idea, before the thought of asking permission eased its way to the front his mind. He grinned slightly as he leaned over the side of the chair to reach the phone that was on the distant end table. Successfully grasping it, he quickly dialed Jody's number, hoping she was still at the office. Glee permeated his entire body when he heard her voice ring out over the line in her standard greeting.

 

“Hey, Officer Mills,” he said, letting her know it was him.

 

“Hey, Dean, what can I do for ya?”

 

“I had a question actually. I know I'm not necessarily under house arrest, but I do know there's limitations. I was curious if I could go out tonight?”

 

“Go where?”

 

“Monks House. Just for a couple of drinks and some food. I could use a night out,” he said earnestly. “Do I need to take Garth with?”

 

“No, no. I think you've done well enough and kept up well enough with your appointments and your agreement with how you meet with Sam, I think you can go out jut fine, but don't invite Sam. I don't want this to be some way for you to get with him and not think you'll get caught,” she said sternly, and it was very uncanny how much she felt like she was his mother.

 

“No, I wouldn't dream of it, honestly. I don't think I could handle the lack of conversation again,” he muttered darkly. He heard her chuckle lightly, feeling a little weight lift off his chest.

 

“Go have a good night, Dean, and don't drive. Have Garth drive you there when he gets home, and make sure you have money for a cab. I'll be calling tomorrow morning to make sure you made it home, understand?”

 

“Yes, Officer Mills. Thank you, I really appreciate it,” he said, before saying their goodbyes and he hung up. He did a silent cheer in excitement over having a night to himself finally. So between then and the time that Garth got home, he occupied himself with a book.

 

He barely heard the door open when the other man had gotten home, his nose nearly touching the pages with how deeply engrossed he was in the book. It took several moments for him to tear his eyes away from the words, and he looked up when Garth plopped down on the couch.

 

“Hey, think you could drop me off at a bar tonight?” he asked, blinking slowly.

 

“Everything good with your lady cop?”

 

“Yeah, I called her a couple hours ago to ask. She said as long as you dropped me off and I got a cab home, I'm good to go alone. She'll give a ring in the morning,” he explained and Garth nodded.

 

“Yeah, sure thing. You wanna go now then, Dean-o?”

 

“Can you not call me that? We've discussed this,” he said, but stood up, dog-earring the page and letting the book close.

 

“Righty-o,” Garth said with a wide smile as Dean headed off to change his clothes.

 

“I'll be out in a minute,” he called to the other man, before closing his door so he could change. He didn't know what to expect of his impromptu night out, but he was definitely excited. He was hoping that no one recognized him, and that he had changed just enough in the past decade that they couldn't put two and two together.

 

In a half hour, he was at the bar, nonchalantly waving to Garth, before making his way inside. It was already pretty packed, which hopefully meant that no one would pay attention to the singular man at the bar. It took him a few moments to find a seat, locating it at the far side, near the corner of long slab of granite.

 

After about five minutes,a very pretty female bartender greeted him, leaning forward in a very obvious attempt for tips.

 

“What can I get you, Sweety?” she asked, giving him a lopsided smile that would undoubtedly turn on any man.

 

“Can I get...” he paused for a moment to glance up at the screen behind her which read all of their different types of beers. “The St. Bernardus, please?”

 

“Sure thing,” she said with a very unsubtle wink before sashaying her way down the bar, grabbing a glass and pouring the beverage from the tap. He had to admit that she definitely had a charm about the way she moved that would've very easily earned her tips, if he were straight. She made her way back to him, beer in hand and she set down in front of him.

 

“Let me know if I can get you anything else,” she said, giving him yet another crooked smile, before making her way to take care of another customer. From the looks of it, most of the people here were regulars, especially when he saw the way that waiters interacted with their customers and the way the very lovely bartender interacted with hers.

 

It was entertaining enough just to watch the people move about the crowded hall, music at just the right level to be heard, but not loud enough to drown out people. Heaving a contented sigh, he took a sip of his beer, which was amazing and instantly made him want to come back the next time he came out.

 

“Dean, right?” he heard a voice, which was familiar behind him. He spun on the stool, eyes skeptical until they landed on the person who had spoken, instantly narrowing.

 

“Castiel, right?” he replied, his voice deep and unamused.

 

“Oh, you remembered,” he said, a slightly odd smile gracing his lips; his very oddly shaped, attractive lips.

 

“You have a weird name.”

 

“Is it weird? Last I knew it was the name of an angel.”

 

“Are you seriously trying to compare yourself to an angel?”

 

“No, I'm far too human to do that. I'm simply saying that's where the name originates, like a lot of names that people give their children. Mine just happened to do it more literally,” he responded, the same uneasy smile on his face.

 

“Right,” Dean responded, before turning away from him. “What do you want?”

 

“I thought we could talk, y'know? Like normal people do.”

 

“And you would know what normal people do?”

 

“Why do you assume that I don't?” Castiel asked, rounding Dean so that they were face to face again. His expression was clearly saying not to turn away again.

 

“Because you have a therapist.”

 

“So do you.”

 

“By court order.”

 

“Mine isn't?”

 

“I don't know, is it?” Dean snapped, getting a little irritated with him.

 

“It is, actually. Court ordered after I was charged with stalking,” he said, chuckling slightly, and that made the Winchester very uncomfortable. “I looked you up, by the way. Naughty, naughty.”

 

Dean flushed in anger and embarrassment at that. Why in the hell would this guy think it was okay to bring that up in public.

 

“Don't worry, I'm not judging you,” he said, chuckling. “I'm merely saying I understand you and what you're doing. It must be hard.”

 

“Right, because you went to prison for your family,” he snarled out, feeling incredibly offended by Castiel. This man had no right to say any of this.

 

“Not for the same reasons as you, but I did go to prison for family, yes. Well, a juvenile detention center. They're about the same thing,” he said, pouting a little at the idea.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean asked, brow furrowed as he looked over at the man.

 

“A lot, as my therapist says. He's told me that I have issues communicating with other people, that I seem to have a lack of verbal filter, and that I really need to learn how to play nice with others. You could say my people skills are rusty,” he said, staring at Dean.

 

“I was never socialized as a kid. My parents home-schooled me, never let me play with any of the kids that lived in our neighborhood. Apparently, they were scared that the other kids would hurt me. What they didn't seem to notice what that I could very easily defend myself.”

 

The Winchester could see what Castiel's therapist meant by lack of filter. He was already rambling on about his childhood as if Dean cared, talking about things completely irrelevant to whatever kind of conversation he had been aiming to have.

 

“Did you really think that was going to change anything?” Dean asked, cutting him off with a frown as he folded his arms over his chest.

 

“No, because nothing I say or do will change anything you say or do. Only you do that. The rest of us just provide the intelligence for you to make a conscious decision whether you remain on the same course or deviate,” Castiel replied, taking Dean aback a little.

 

That was not the kind of answer he had expected from the raven-haired man. He had expected some sap story about _why_ it should've changed his mind, but instead he received that, and it gave him food for thought.

 

“You raise a valid point,” he said, unfurling his arms and reaching over to take his drink. “I still don't understand why you're here and trying to talk to me.”

 

“My therapist says I need to reach out more.”

 

“And you think I'm the person you should reach out to?”

 

“Another felon is a start.”

 

Dean inhaled deeply, his face tightening with the urge to say something snarky and then punch the man, but he couldn't. This was an effort being made that, while unbearable, couldn't be disrupted by his inability to deal with it.

 

“You really need to learn how to speak with people.”

 

“Most of the time I know. It's fairly easy to learn how to speak with people, but you aren't ordinary people. You're not as easy to read as other people.”

 

“Are you like Sherlock or something?” Dean asked, and there was a pause from Castiel who seemed to be genuinely pondering the question.

 

“No. He's much more despondent to humanity than I am,” he said after a few moments. “While he can have the ability to glean almost any information or implications just from a person's appearance, I do it from their words and their reactions. He gauges how they'll react before they do. I simply learn who you are by how you react.”

 

“And who do you think I am?” Dean replied, giving him the ammo he was clearly looking for.

 

“A fairly intelligent man in his thirties who knowingly sacrificed himself for his brother so that you both wouldn't end up in prison. I also think you're damaged, but not broken. You're still functioning, but only slightly. There are some things you just don't remember how to do.”

 

“Yeah, like what?”

 

“Have a conversation.”

 

Dean narrowed his eyes at that, his arms folded back over his chest.

 

“Is that not what we're doing now?” he asked defensively, and Castiel laughed at that.

 

“God, no. I'm talking, you're arguing and being defensive. I've told you things, but you haven't told me anything. Conversations require two people talking about mutual things,” the shorter man said, arching an eyebrow as he leaned against the bar.

 

It was obvious that Dean had lost all his social skill while being in prison.

 

“You were held in Mike Durfee state prison, right?”

 

“What?”

 

“Mike Durfee. That's where you were.”

 

“What of it?”

 

“I knew someone who was, and probably still is there,” Castiel said quietly, his eyes averted.

 

“Who?”

 

“I... don't talk about him much. It brings up bad memories.”

 

“Is he why you are like you are?”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Is he why you're a sex addict. That's what you are, right? A nympho.”

 

“To be indelicate about it, yes,” Castiel responded, his face becoming tense. “And I suppose you could say that. Indirectly, he only supported it.”

 

“Right...” Dean said, grabbing his beer and down the rest of it. He needed to get drunk if he was going to deal with a night of talking to this guy.

 

“So tell me more about yourself Dean. Aside from the fact that you've spent a third of your life behind bars. What about your childhood? What happened to cause your attraction to your brother?”

 

“I... don't know. It just... happened,” he responded uneasily. This was not a conversation he had ever had before, not with Jo, not even with Sam.

 

“Right. Things don't just happen, Dean. You don't wake up one morning and magically think I'll have sex with my brother from now on,” Castiel retorted, arching an eyebrow. “What _happened_. Something had to happen between your parents. Maybe Daddy ditched on Mommy and became an alcohol, so you and Sam had to rely on each other? Maybe Mommy ditched on Daddy and Daddy was the alcoholic.”

 

Dean's brow furrowed at his life being analyzed that like and he turned away from the other man. He wasn't going to be talked to like this, especially in public. He didn't need any trouble that could relay back to Jody or Jo.

 

“We're not going to talk about this. You're not my therapist, and you're not my friend,” Dean said after a few moments, and he heard Castiel chuckle.

 

“Oh, we'll see, Dean. I think you'll come to rely on me much more than your brother soon enough. You wanna know why? Because we're damaged. He's not damaged, he's not even scratched. He lived his life just fine while you were locked away in prison, probably being treated horribly for your crimes by the other inmates and guards. He doesn't know and he will never understand, but I will, because I've been on the end of the stick that hits the ground.

 

Soon, Dean, you'll need me, and I'll be here. I'll be here more than anyone else, because I've got nowhere to go.”

 

Dean wasn't sure what the expression on his face was, but the emotional turmoil the man's words caused him were far greater than he had expected. Flagging down the bartender, he asked for another beer, turning to respond to Castiel, but the man was gone. Groaning, he nearly slammed his head against the bar, hoping he would go home and forget the entire night hours later.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam go on a date.

Months had passed without anything particularly exciting or life altering. Dean had succeeded in getting a job at a nearby mechanics shop, and it paid him fairly well. He finished his probation without a hitch, and he was still in therapy, more over because he felt he needed to be than because of the state order. Jo was helping him more than he could have realized.

 

He had moved out of Garth's place, and into his own apartment. Sam had asked him why he wasn't coming back home, and he'd responded that they needed to relearn who they were before they could take that step again. Tonight was on of the nights where they were going to try and learn each other.

 

Fidgeting in his nicer clothes, he peered at himself in the mirror, making sure he was as put together as he could be. He had finally regained weight and muscle mass lost and then some, so he'd had to buy an entirely new wardrobe. It had hurt him emotionally to spend that much money on clothing, but it was a necessary evil.

 

He narrowed his eyes at his hair, running his hands over it to smooth it back down. He straightened the tie around his neck, loosening it just a hair, before deeming himself presentable. Dean still had no idea where they were going; he'd just been told to dress nicely and to meet Sam at his house.

 

Glancing over at the clock, it was time for him to leave in order to be right on time. Grabbing his keys, he flipped off the bedroom light and headed to the front door. Flipping off the light for the living room, and turning on the foyer light, he headed out, locking the door behind him. A few flights of stairs later, he was in his car and heading to Sam's his favorite Led Zeppelin tunes melting into his ears.

 

Twenty minutes later, he was parked in the driveway next to his brother's plastic piece of crap car, shutting the engine off and getting out. The younger man was already on the porch, locking the door to the house.

 

“Heya, Sammy,” he said with a smile. He had to admit that Sam cleaned up nice. Despite the ridiculously long hair, he looked incredibly attractive in a button down covered by a long-sleeve sweater. “You look like a nerd. A sexy nerd, but a nerd nonetheless.”

 

Sam just smiled and shook his head as he jogged down the stairs and to his car. They fell into a hug with ease, inhaling each others' scent and enjoying the contact. Dean was a little more reluctant to let go than the taller was, but the separated. The younger circled the car while Dean hopped in the passenger side.

 

“You know how much I hate your car, right?” he said teasingly, earning a chuckle from Sam.

 

“I could beat you and the Impala any day, Dean,” he said as he started the car, the engine roaring, before quieting to a soft purr.

 

“Right, because all calls _purr_ ,” he said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “I'll take you up on that challenge one day, Sammy. You don't know when, but I'll beat you. It takes more than just the car to win the race.”

 

Sam laughed at that as he pulled out of the driveway, and heading down the road. There was a moment of silence between, but it didn't seem awkward or cause of lack of conversation. The older Winchester looked over at his brother, soaking in his appearance.

 

It still amazed him just how much the younger had changed, physically and emotionally. He was taller, which was the most noticeable aspect, but his face had thinned and gotten sharper. He looked more mature, whereas Dean felt he still looked the same, just older. The only feature that really looked the same was Sam's eyes. They were the same shape and color, and the brightness was still there. It gave him hope that they could still make things work. Ten years was a long time for anyone, but even more so for brothers.

 

“So where are we going?”

 

“You'll find out when we get there, Dean.”

 

“You know I hate surprises, Sammy.”

 

“That's why I'm doing it this way,” the younger said, grinning crookedly. It was more attractive now that it had been when he was younger. Dean felt as if he was falling in love with his brother all over again.

 

“Well that just means your a sadist, and I'm not sure I can deal with that,” Dean teased, smiling at his brother.

 

“Oh, please, I know you can deal with it.”

 

“On what grounds?”

 

“On what you went through for me.”

 

The heaviness of those words nearly stopped Dean's breath. He hadn't really expected that topic to come up tonight, but he should have. It took him a moment to recompose himself and keep himself from crumbling. That was one of the things he and Jo had been going over.

 

“I suppose that's a valid thought reasoning,” he said after a few moments, and he could see the fear on Sam's face. His features relaxed almost immediately when he spoke, and he reached out to take his brother's hand. “Don't stress it, okay? If there's anyone I have to learn to talk about it with, it's you.”

 

“Doesn't make me any less sorry,” Sam replied, causing Dean to scoff and sigh.

 

“You really didn't lose your stubborn streak at all, did you?”

 

“About as much as you lost your shitty sense of humor.”

 

“Hey! I'm fucking hilarious!” Dean said, mocking offense.

 

“If that's what keeps you going,” Sam responded, grinning again. It made the older Winchester's heart rise just to see his brother so happy again. He'd never realized just how much he'd missed it until now. Smiling to himself, he relaxed in the seat, taking in their passing surroundings.

 

“If you're taking me to some high end place...”

 

“What're you gunna do, really?”

 

“Give you hell over it for the rest of our lives,” he said, chuckling.

 

“That's if you remember it that long,” Sam replied, looking over at him skeptically.

 

“Hey, hey, eyes on the road,” Dean said, pointing out the windshield. “I'd rather not die tonight.”

 

His brother just laughed at that, but turned his face back to the road. After about ten minutes, they were pulling into the parking lot of a well known local restaurant.

 

“Italian? Seriously?” Dean asked as he read the sign. “Isn't this place expensive?”

 

“That's for you to not care about,” the taller said, putting the car into park, and shutting it off. He turned to face Dean at that point, his face completely serious. “Dean, I just want to enjoy tonight, okay? It's our first night out since you got off probation, and I want to celebrate properly.”

 

“You're talking like you expect me to cause a scene.”

 

“No, but I'm not exactly planning on tonight ending here, either,” the younger Winchester repled, causing heat to bubble in his stomach. He hadn't really considered the fact that maybe Sam needed him as much as he'd needed Sam. All through his therapy, he'd gone over not relying on sex to build his relationship with his brother, and that had been what he had done, but maybe a little too well.

 

“Right,” he said, nodding as he took a moment to adjust to that idea. He hadn't really thought past dinner, but it was more than obvious Sam had. Knowing that changed things, as he wasn't quite sure he wanted to go that far yet. They were trying to start again, and he wasn't sure sex was an option on a first date.

 

“Is something wrong?” Sam asked, his brow furrowing at his brother's silence.

 

“What? No, not really. I just... do you normally go for sex on the first date?” he asked, a grin making its way onto his lips. The eye roll he received was more than enough to know that he wasn't taken seriously.

 

“Really, Dean?”

 

“To be honest, my therapist has recommended I abstain from sex for the time being. As she has expressly stated, 'make sure you're in a long, committed relationship before having intercourse'. It followed a very long speech about how I needed to redefine myself after prison.”

 

The expression on his brother's face wasn't readable, and it concerned him. He didn't know what to expect as response to that, and if Sam was taking him seriously with the topic. They stared at each other for a moment before the younger moved to get out of the car.

 

“We should go,” he said, thrusting open his door. Dean nodded and followed suit, albeit, more gently with the door. The rest of their date and night were uneventful, and they ended up simply sleeping together, which the older Winchester had to admit was nice.

 

Waking up the next morning, it was warming, emotionally and physically, to have a person beside him again, especially a person he loved so much. A gentle smile caressed his lips as he rolled over to be greeted with Sam's sleeping face. Some of his ridiculously long hair had fallen into his face, and he raised his hand to push it away.

 

Taking in his brother's features, it was almost like staring at a different person. His cheeks were more hollowed, and the stubble that now grew there was new altogether. He looked older and younger at the same time, and it was a conflicting feeling for him. Knowing Sam's age, he looked young for his age, but at the same time, he looked so much older than he had when he was 17.

 

“Oh, Sammy...” he murmured to himself, the muscles in his jaw twitching into his a frown. It still hurt him to know that he had left his brother alone for so long. Even if Sam didn't see it as abandonment, that's what it was. Dean had made him grow up without a father and a brother, and he couldn't fathom the toll that had on him.

 

There was a familiar burning in his eyes, his thumb and forefinger quickly taking care of the problem before it began. Rubbing his eyes, he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. His habit of being up at 6AM hadn't changed despite the amount of time he'd been out. Inhaling deeply, he released a soft, long sigh, feeling his body relax as he twisted in order to stretch his muscles.

 

“Dean?” he heard beside him, causing him to turn his head quickly with a snap. Grimacing, he rubbed his neck as he was greeted with brilliant hazel eyes. “What are you doing awake?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing, Sammy.”

 

“You kicked me.”

 

“Oh. Sorry,” Dean muttered, averting his eyes.

 

“It's fine, but you didn't answer my question. What are you doing awake?”

 

“Old habits die hard.”

 

The elder Winchester could practically feel the guilt and sadness radiating off his brother and he looked him dead in the eyes.

 

“You really need to stop blaming yourself for what's happened to me, Sam. I made the choices just as much as you did, and I knew what I was getting in to. I knew there could be consequences and I was willing to accept them, not only on your behalf, but at the helm of my selfishness. None of this—none of me is your problem or your fault, okay?”

 

Green eyes pierced into Sam's soul, imploring for an honest answer. The intensity between them was enough to make Dean want to jump the younger right there, but self-restraint was a vital lesson in his rebuilding himself. Swallowing thickly, he refused to break eye contact until he had an answer.

 

“There will always be a part of me that blames myself for what happened to you, and you can't tell me I have no reason to feel that way. If you had been with any other teenager, it wouldn't necessarily had the same effect that it did. I will always have some part to play in what happened, Dean.”

 

“I understand that, but you need to let it stop ruling out relationship _now_. I'm not letting it rule me and how I interact with you, for the most part. I wish you'd give me the same courtesy,” Dean responded, his jaw set strong. He wasn't backing down from this.

 

He received a sigh in response, and a half-hearted nod. It caused him to frown and his brow to furrow as he waited for a vocal reply.

 

“Okay,” Sam said after taking a substantial amount of time to find his voice.

 

“I'll hold you to that,” he said, before leaning forward to give him a kiss. “Now go back to sleep, okay?”

 

It didn't take much for the younger's face to go slack as he fell back into the abyss of his mind.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Things had been going a lot better since their early morning talk, several months ago. Sam had seemed a lot freer in his actions and reactions, and it made Dean feel a little more comfortable with trying again. The lingering effect that he might go back to prison weighed on the edge of his mind, tinkling it's little bell as a reminder every time he looked at Sam. It made his guilt so much heavier every time. 

 

He had ended his sessions with Jo a week ago, as she had finally deemed him ready to support himself. She had said that if he felt he was having reliance issues again, he could always come back, because she would be there. Dean had been grateful to hear that, as he wasn't sure how he could cope with not having someone to talk to every week.

 

More guilt.

 

He knew he should've been able to talk to Sam, but realistically, his brother was an integer in the problem. They hadn't had sex in over a year, since he had gotten out. Dean had refused to explain why, feeling embarrassed and guilty over the reason. He couldn't explain why he felt that Sam wouldn't understand, or would overcompensate for his understanding, and make it that much more awkward for Dean. He wanted to avoid that at all costs.

 

Tonight however, he felt that maybe, they should take that step together. He had scripted the entire conversation in his head, with multiple responses from Sam to compensate for the several different ways he could respond. Licking his lips in anticipation, he typed up a text, rereading it a few times, before pressing send. Dean read it several times more, and a response chimed in on his sixth reread.

 

' _That sounds fantastic! My place or yours?_ '

 

He carefully considered his two option, before glancing around his small, barren apartment. While he felt significantly more comfortable here, he wasn't sure that Sam would feel that comfort in the minimal furniture, lack of décor, and glaring white everything staring back at them. Except for the TV, which was a black reflective surface that gave Dean pause every so often.

 

' _Your place.'_ He responded, his phone chiming when it sent, and he set his phone down on the arm of his couch. He couldn't explain why he had selected everything that was white, but it gave him a sense of cleanliness and organization. Garth had told him it made it look like a hospital room. Dean had countered with the fact that they typically had blue rooms now.

 

His head turned quickly with a crack, causing him to wince, when there was a knock at his door. He knew that he had told Sam they'd be meeting at his place in a couple of hours. Sighing, he pushed himself away from the couch and meandered to the door.

 

“Sam, I told yo—“ he was cut off by the appearance of the one, very obnoxious and crazy Castiel. “How in the fuck did you fi—“

 

“Seriously, Dean? I was, and probably still am a stalker. You're really asking me that question?” Castiel said, his face sober, and his typically bright blue eyes dark. It was odd to see him like that, not that he saw him very often.

 

“Touche,” was his response, but he didn't move to let Castiel enter. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I needed to talk to someone.”

 

“That's what your therapist is for.”

 

“He doesn't really listen. I'm not dismissing his diagnosis, but I think he focuses more on the easily medicated problems more than the ones I don't know how to deal with,” Castiel responded. It explained a lot, if it was true.

 

He found himself often doubting the shorter man, whether he was really telling the truth, or telling Dean was he wanted to hear. It made him very uncomfortable to be around the man, but now, for some reason, he didn't feel that unease, despite the circumstances.

 

“Do you... want to come in?” he asked after several moments of of deliberation with himself. He was sure this had a maximum amount of just how bad this could really go. Castiel sauntered inside, and Dean could see the reading gaze as he watched his face. He really hoped this wasn't a ploy for more information on him, but that was most likely wishful thinking.

 

“So, what's the problem?” he asked, after closing the door, and replacing himself on his couch, which now held the raven-haired man as well.

 

“I don't know how well you remember our previous meetings—“

 

“Pretty well. One-sided conversations and all,” Dean cut him off, to keep him from rambling.

 

“Then you remember I told you about the man who was at Mike Durfee. The one who instigated a lot of this,” Castiel said as he motioned to himself, hands sweeping his upper body.

 

“I do.”

 

“I went to see him. My therapist insisted that it would be good closure for me,” the man went on, causing Dean to arch an eyebrow. He couldn't even imagine what it was like to see a man who was put behind bars because of you. It made his mind travel to Sam, who wasn't allowed to see the man who everyone said was put behind bars because of him. It made his chest tighten in discomfort and sadness.

 

“And?”

 

“It didn't go quite as well as he thought it would. I think they ended up having to sedate him from the amount of rage he showed,” came the response, which was one he hadn't been expecting.

 

“If you don't mind my asking, what was he in there for?”

 

“Rape and solicitation.”

 

That made Dean's bones go cold. He stared at Castiel for a moment, his mind thinking back to the many conversations he'd had with Lucifer, who had often talked about his ex like he was the gold he hated to love.

 

“You. You're Cass,” he said, realization hitting him like a semi-truck.

 

“What?” Castiel asked, his own eyes showing bewilderment.

 

“Lucifer. I knew him. You're the ex,” Dean said, his brow furrowed darkly as he shifted uneasily on the couch.

 

“Oh. So you've heard his side of the story then. The completely ridiculous side of his story,” Castiel said, his expression surprisingly blank.

 

“Didn't sound so ridiculous to me,” Dean responded, frowning darkly.

 

“He's a psychopath, of course it didn't. They can always tell you what you want to hear,” Castiel said, looking away from Dean. That hit Dean even harder than the realization that Castiel was Lucifer's ex. It only made sense that one of them had to be a psychopath, or at least substantially unbalanced.

 

Lucifer had seemed so put together, especially for being in prison. The longer he thought about it, the more it started to make sense that maybe he really was a psychopath, and Dean had courted a psychopath in prison.

 

“So how did you know Lucifer?” Castiel asked after a moment, glancing over at him. It seemed he had given Dean the courtesy to put the dots together for himself.

 

“He was in my cell-block. Kind of owned the place,” Dean said, keeping his eyes averted. “We had talked a few times, when he had first come in. Said he found me interesting because I wasn't like the rest of the guys there.”

 

This was the first time he had really discussed his prison time with anyone, including Jo. Especially the specifics of any interaction he'd had with any of his prison mates. It felt weird to be talking about with someone who was a complete stranger to him, but he knew that Castiel knew how Lucifer really was, so maybe he could understand.

 

“Did you sleep with him?” Castiel asked, his eyes seemingly peering into the depths of Dean's soul. It was like he could tell what would happen just by talking to Lucifer.

 

“I don't know if it was really in exchange for protection from the other guys, but that's what I got,” he said in an evasive answer.

 

“That was probably him just asserting his possession over you. He would do the same thing with me,” Castiel said, leaning forward a little bit. “How long?”

 

“Four years.”

 

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he felt no need to shirk away from it. It almost felt comforting to have someone really understand what had happened to him while he was in prison. His eyes scraped up the flesh of the arm next to his face until they landed back on Castiel's, which harbored an expression of sympathy. It was the most connection he had felt with anyone in a while.

 

“That's a long time,” Castiel said, and Dean hardly noticed the fact that he was getting closer. “That's a long time to be lied to, and to be manipulated, but I understand your pain. I know how you feel.”

 

The Winchester could tell there was more on his tongue than he was saying but he didn't push it, instead giving a simple nod and half-smile. The smile was returned in full force, and Castiel's hand slipped from his shoulder.

 

“It'll be okay, now though. You don't have to worry about that,” the other said, and it created a pang of guilt in his chest, causing him to look away. “What? What is it?”

 

“It's still affecting my relationship,” he said after a moment of debate.

 

“The one with your brother?”

 

“If you can call it a relationship. Don't get me wrong, I still love him with all of my being, but now I know what I'd deal with again if we were caught. I'm not sure I could do that again,” he said, his eyes focused on his lap. He could hear the rustle of fabric against the clothe of his couch, and Castiel's knees entered his vision.

 

“That's a reasonable fear, Dean. You shouldn't feel guilty for that,” Castiel responded, a hand find it's way to his thigh. “Perhaps, you should talk about this with him.”

 

“I can't, God, I can't. He already feels guilty about the first time.”

 

“And you don't want to hurt him more?”

 

“I'm not even sure that's it,” Dean said softly, his voice slightly trembling at that point.

 

“Then what is it?”

 

“I'm scared he'll leave me. That he'll do everything he can to make sure I don't go back to prison. I couldn't handle that. I can't handle being alone after everything that's happened,” he said, his eyes beginning to ache with the threat of tears. He inhaled deeply as an attempt to suffocate his emotions, but to no avail.

 

“Maybe you should look for someone else,” Castiel offered lightly. Dean could tell it meant no offense, but it still hurt. The idea of abandoning Sam again seemed impossible and cruel, and he could only think of how his brother would feel about all of his fears.

 

“I can't... I can't leave him again, not like that,” Dean denied, shaking his head. “Dammit, I feel like such a horrible person. You came here to talk about yourself and now we're talking about me.”

 

Castiel chuckled and leaned in a little closer, his forehead now touching Dean's. It didn't feel uncomfortable or even unwanted, but instead it quelled his raging emotions, bringing him back down to Earth. His eyes met blue oceans, which felt calming and safe, and warm breath washed over his face with a minty aftertaste. A hand was in his hair, softly massaging and running through the short strands, but it lulled him into security.

 

“Don't worry about that now, okay? We can always talk later,” Castiel said softly, his low tone drawing Dean in and beginning to drown him. He was only just noticing how this was his first real intimate moment. He'd had plenty of sexually intimate moments with Sam and Lucifer, but never anything emotional, nothing this deep without feeling like he was falling off a cliff and into the ocean.

 

“Okay,” he replied, attempting to nod his head, but instead he just rubbed his head awkwardly against Castiel's, causing the other to chuckle. The raven-haired man pulled away, his face coming back into focus and it was only then that Dean took a really good look at him.

 

His face was tan, with a little stubble adorning his jaw line, making it look even more chiseled than it was. His lips were full and wide, chapped a little, but that gave them an air of attraction Dean hadn't noticed before. Castiel's eyes were narrow, but bright, never letting you ignore the fact that he was a beautiful person. His black hair was swept up and to the side, allowing you to see all these features clearly and without distraction, which only seemed to fuel his attractiveness.

 

Without regard, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Castiel's, who surprisingly responded almost immediately. His hands came up to frame that perfect jawline, thumbs pressing against his cheeks as he kissed him harder. He felt hands on his wrists, and moved to pull back, taking it as a sign that Castiel wanted him to stop, but he was instead pulled closer.

 

The broke apart a moment later, but they didn't distance themselves, their foreheads touching once again.

 

“I'm sorry, I—“

 

“Don't apologize. You did what you felt and to fault you for that is cruel,” Castiel responded, the corners of his lips twitching into a lopsided smile. “It's alright though. I definitely don't object. That's kind of why I've been following you.”

 

“I was right! You were stalking me!”

 

“It's not proper stalking if I admit it when I get caught,” the other teased with a wider smile. “But the first time I saw you, I was attracted to you.”

 

“You fooled me,” Dean responded, his heart pounding wildly with what he'd just done.

 

“That's the point, I think.”

 

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, just remaining close as Dean tried to calm his racing heart. He had just kissed a man whose name was not Sam Winchester, and that qualified as cheating. He felt horrible for it, but at the same time, he felt exhilarated. He'd never felt something so chemical, and he was pretty sure he didn't want to let it go.

 

“What now?” Castiel voiced his inner thoughts.

 

“I... don't know. Honestly, I want to see if I can make things work with Sam before I completely dismiss him. He's my brother, and he's given me everything.”

 

“So you feel obligated to return those affections?”

 

“A little, yeah.”

 

Silence greeted his ears, and it felt harsher than it was. His heart rate was elevated again at the idea that maybe Castiel wasn't okay with that. It terrified him to think he'd have to make an ultimate decision now.

 

“Fine. Do that, but I implore you to not take too long. Don't be cruel to either of us. The next time you're with him, be honest with yourself, and with him,” the other said, and Dean nodded as he pulled back.

 

“That sounds fair. I'm actually seeing him tonight,” the Winchester said, shifting his position on the couch to aim away from Castiel.

 

“Oh. I should leave then,” he said, standing and Dean stood with him.

 

“I promise, I won't drag this on. It's not fair to anyone if I do,” he said quietly, letting his hand raise to move a stray hair of Castiel's. “I need your number.”

 

The shorter blinked at that, as it seemed out of the blue but it was a good idea to exchange numbers. He pulled out his cell phone, and Dean iterated his number to him, and he sent a quick text to him, with his name. He offered the Winchester a half smile and moved to go around him, but the taller swooped in for a quick kiss.

 

It took him by surprise, but he wasn't complaining as he headed towards the door.

 

“I'll talk to you later,” Dean said just as the door shut behind him. A smile played with his lips as he headed home, knowing he would hear the answer he wanted later that evening.

 


End file.
